The Academy
by Alixtii
Summary: Sunnydale High wasn't the only school built on top of a Hellmouth.... (Warning: Very Short Chapters!) PG-13 for language.
1. Preface

The Academy  
  
Sunnydale High wasn't the only school built on top of a Hellmouth...  
  
Disclaimer: Technically, I own everything so far in this, except the mention of the Hellmouth. But it's set in Joss Whedon's universe. And sooner rather than later, there'll be more references to the Council of Watchers or to the Slayer or the Order of Aurelius or some piece of obscure backstory from the Buffyverse. Joss Whedon owns all that. So he might as well own this as well.  
  
Setting: St. Clare's Academy, Cleveland  
  
Chronology: Before Season 7. I haven't decided beyond that.  
  
Preface  
  
The school uniform at St. Clare's was much like that of any other Catholic high school in the Cleveland area. There was the plaid skirt and the white blouse for girls, dockers, shirt and tie for boys. Nonetheless, every student at St. Clare's Academy was instantly identifiable by the bright red blazer that he or she wore. That was the point. There was also an item that wasn't on the official dress code, but every student wore without fail nonetheless: a silver cross on a chain around the neck. Everyone wore the cross, even if he or she was Jewish or Buddhist or Hindu, or just a plain atheist. And everyone kept silent about it. There were bigger issues on a Hellmouth than civil liberties.  
They rarely needed the crosses around their necks, however. Vampires rarely got close enough to a St. Clare's student to be repelled by its power; they saw the red blazer and stayed away. Why go after one of them when there were so many easy meals all over the city? It was like one of those little security company stickers people put on the windows of their houses. Besides, St. Clare's students knew better than to be out about dark in groups smaller than four or five students. The school held a strict curfew, after all. 


	2. Library

Disclaimer: Now we've gotten more Buffyverse stuff. Joss owns it.  
  
Catelyn woke up early that morning and decided to stop by the library before breakfast, do some extra studying for her AP Europe class. She looked around the walk carefully as she walked down it: the sun was up, but it was still in that twilight time when shadows were everywhere. Not that she thought that there could be a vampire in the Academy—what vamp would be that stupid?—and also that she would be protected by the school's "sanctuary" hex, but she also knew what happened to those who failed to exercise such caution.  
She made her way into the library and began to walk towards the medieval Europe section. As she did, though, she noticed that one of the display cases in the library lounge was broken into. She looked around and, sure enough, there was a broken window on the side of the library which faced the street. Someone—or something—had come in and taken...what? Catelyn examined the placard that remained within the display case. "Oracle of Illa," it read, "12th-century artifact." What the hell was an Oracle of Illa?  
Catelyn had already put that question aside in her mind, because she had noticed a small chain peeking out from within the rumpled cloth upon which the Oracle had sat. She pulled it out and realized that there was a medallion on it, a medallion bearing an insignia that she recognized from her European history class. "Inquisitore," she whispered. 


	3. Medallion

"What do you know of Inquisitore, Catelyn?" asked Fr. Marcus as he fingered the medallion.  
"Only what we've learned in history," she said. "A Catholic order founded by Monsignor Donatello Rivelli, who was excommunicated from the Church in 1678. They were traditionalists, who adhered to the old beliefs. They were also renowned for their skill in torture."  
Fr. Marcus nodded. "An awful lot, but useful to turn to when dealing with those creatures the Vatican could not officially recognize: vampires, demons, werewolves, and so on. They were swift and effective, but they were equally as dangerous to anyone who would dare oppose them as they were to the creatures of darkness."  
"They sound positively charming, Father."  
"There are at least thirteen oracles in the world," Fr. Marcus mused as he rose from his chair and began to pace. "They didn't just choose to steal ours at random. They were trying to send a message. To us. Thus, this." He placed the medallion down on his desk. "Do you know what the Latin means, Catelyn?"  
Catelyn picked up the medallion and examined it closely. She hadn't even seen those words there before, they were so small. She squinted and tried to make them out. "Fear us, O darkness," she translated, "or else die in the light of the Lord."  
"Good job. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you with Sr. Sinclair. It's a warning, Catelyn. Intended to frighten the recipient into submission." 


	4. Order

"Do you have the oracle?"  
"Yes, Padre."  
"Good." The elder man, dressed in crimson robes, took the artifact from the younger, brown-robed man.  
"Will that really answer any question? Show us anything that we want?"  
"Anything within this dimension," the Padre qualified. "It is not the Axis of Pythia. But it is powerful within those limits. Yes, anything, past, present, or future." He sprinkled a fine magenta powder over the oracle. "Show us the Darkness."  
Above the oracle, colors began to come into and out of existence—first red, then green, then a veritable rainbow. They began to sort themselves out, and as they did so, a figure came into the focus—a young, blonde girl.  
The younger man gasped. "It is the Slayer!" he said.  
The Padre shook his head. "She is tainted by demon blood, sure enough, but she is not the Darkness. But she has given herself up to Death, and the Darkness has taken her form. Show us the servants of the Darkness," he commanded the oracle.  
The scene changed. Suddenly there was a different blonde girl, running as fast as she could. Behind her were three men in brown robes, X's where their eyes should be. Eventually, they caught up with her, and plunged their knives into her heart.  
"The Darkness is wiping out those whose blood is tainted," observed the Padre. "It is purifying the world with its holocaust even as it seeks to corrupt."  
"But . . . the Slayers," protested the younger man. "Won't we need them to fight off the Darkness?"  
"We need no unholy alliances," answered the Padre. "We need no one to protect us but the Father. Remember our mission, Brother: to purify the world in our holy crusade of righteousness. We will not rest until all signs of sin are wiped from this world. And we will not fail." He turned to the oracle. "Show us our victory."  
And, obediently, the oracle displayed the Padre himself as he thrust his sword through a young girl's heart. 


	5. Harbinger

The Bringer made its way through the dormitory. It could not see, but that was necessary: it knew where it was going, even though it had never been there before. It could almost hear the blood sing out—the blood of the line of the Slayer. It held its knife firmly in his hand, thinking about how it would savour bringing it down on the girl's heart, and how pleased Caleb would be.  
It slipped into the room quietly, making sure not to disturb either of the girls who slept in their beds. It could not see either of them, but it knew which was the one it had come to hunt, it stood by that girl's bed, holding the knife above her heart. Then, suddenly, it brought it down towards her chest—  
—and just as suddenly, an invisible force knocked it across the room, breaking the large mirror that hung on the wall as it did so. 


	6. Sanctuary

Catelyn heard the crash and was instantly awake. Instantly she was out of bed, her hand on the lightswitch.  
Crashed against the large mirror was some strange creature, dressed in brown robes and having X's where its eyes should have been.  
"Well, at least we know you're not a vampire," said Catelyn. "And now you have seven years bad luck."  
The creature whatever it was, rushed at her. Catelyn grabbed the closest thing she could find—a vial of holy water. The thing wasn't a vampire, but who knew? She threw it on it as it came down with the knife—and was thrown across the room. Thank Mary and all the Saints for the Sanctuary spell, thought Catelyn as she picked up a stake. Not that the creature was going to turn to dust, but it was better than nothing.  
Apparently realizing that there was nothing it could do Catelyn, the creature jumped through the window, crashing three stories to the street outside the school.  
"Catelyn?" asked Catelyn's roommate, Mary Margaret, only just gaining consciousness. "What was that?"  
"God only knows," answered Catelyn. "But I think we had better find out." 


	7. Potential

> "Is this what it looked like?" Fr. Marcus as he showed Catelyn and Mary Margaret an etching from one of the library's books.  
"That was it," answered Catelyn. With those X-ed out eyes, who could mistake it?  
Fr. Marcus nodded and shut the book. He let out a long and slow sigh.  
It was Mary Margaret who finally spoke up. "Father, what was it?"  
"It was a Harbinger, Mary Margaret."  
"A what?"  
"A priest."  
"Well, he wasn't wearing the clerical collar," pointed out Catelyn. "And I don't think it was Episcopalian."  
"A high priest of the First Evil," clarified Fr. Marcus. "The most absolute of evils, older than both men and demons."  
"And why was this thing in our bedroom?"  
Fr. Marcus did not answer for a while. "You both know what a Slayer is?" he asked.  
Catelyn nodded. "Into each generation, a Slayer is born: one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer, et cetera et cetera and so on and so on. She's a girl in California."  
Mary Margaret added, "I heard there's two Slayers. One in Sunnydale, but the other one is in jail."  
Fr. Marcus nodded. "That's correct, Mary Margaret. But in every generation, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of girls who could have been the Slayer. The Council of Watchers, who guides the Slayers, never knows which girl will be activated as Slayer when the past Slayer dies. So they try and find as many of these potential Slayers as they can and train them, preparing them for the day when they may be Slayers. Sometimes, however, the potential Slayers fall under the jurisdiction of some institution which the Council trusts, and in those cases the Watchers do not interfere. St. Clare's is one such institution."  
Catelyn looked at Fr. Marcus wide-eyed. "Then you mean...."  
"Yes, Catelyn," Fr. Marcus answered. "Mary Margaret is a potential Vampire Slayer."  
  
A/N: Thanks to karabair for asking if Catelyn (who appears in my "Windows of My Soul") was a Slayer and prompting this story.


	8. Watcher

> "But I'm just 16!" Mary Margaret said.  
"The current Slayer was 16 when she was called," said Fr. Marcus. "But in all likelihood you will never be called, and live out your life like anyone else."  
"She'll never be called for sure if that Harbinger gets its way," pointed out Catelyn. "He was trying to kill her!"  
Fr. Marcus nodded. "Last night, my contact at the Council, a Roger Wyndam-Pryce, called me warning that such attacks were taking place all over the globe. I wasn't able to put into effect any extra precautions yet between then and now. Luckily, the Sanctuary spell seemed to be enough—this time."  
"You don't think this over?"  
Fr. Marcus laughed—a dry, somber laugh the likes Catelyn had never heard before, and very much did not want to hear again. "We are dealing with the First Evil, children. It is never over."


	9. Roommate

"So what is like?"  
Mary Margaret sat on her bed and looked at her roommate oddly. "What is what like?" she asked.  
Catelyn made an expansive (albeit meaningless) gesture. "Being a potential Vampire Slayer," she said.  
Mary Margaret shrugged. "Like being a potential doctor or a potential physicist? What does being a potential anything feel like?"  
"But they're not mystical callings."  
"Catelyn, are you jealous?"  
"Maybe just a little bit," the girl admitted.  
"Don't be. The next Slayer doesn't get called until the current Slayer dies. And that's the one who went rogue, Faith. She's in prison right now, and not likely to die for many and many years. By the time she dies, I'll probably be too old to be Chosen.  
"But even if Faith were to die, what are the chances that I'd be Chosen? Several hundred to one against. I'm not a Slayer, chances are I'll never be a Slayer, and I don't particularly want to be the Slayer. Right now, all this means is that I'm not allowed off the campus grounds because it isn't safe."  
"That does suck," admitted Catelyn. She sat down beside Mary Margaret and commiserated with her friend. 


	10. Council

> "Are you sure you don't want to transfer them into Council custody?"  
"There's not a damn thing the Council can do to protect them that we can't do just as well here," Fr. Marcus said into the telephone. "I see no reason to move them, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce."  
"Well," said the deep voice on the other side of the telephone, "if that is what you think is best. The Council trusts your judgment in these matters and will respect your wishes. But if I may recommend—"  
"I know what your recommendations are. These girls were placed into my care and, with the grace of the Lord, I will protect them."  
"In that case, Father, I hope your Lord is feeling gracious. Good luck." There was a click on the line.  
Fr. Marcus hung up the telephone, sat down, and began to think.


	11. Interlude

> _Everyone who has completed high school remembers their senior year. So it is for Catelyn and Mary Margaret. Mostly, they remember how fast it went, how before they knew it was March and they were going on their senior trip, wondering about who would ask whom to the Senior Prom. They also remember, however, a very different senior year—one so different that they can hardly believe that they are both the same year. They remember a year full of fear, remembering the Harbinger who came into their dorm room, and how they were waiting for the next shoe to drop. The new-and-improved Sanctuary spell, made even stronger after the Harbinger incident, seemed to succeed in repelling any minions the First Evil might have sent against the few Potentials the school harbored, but they all knew that they were only postponing the inevitable._
> 
> _ Since Mary Margaret was now aware of her potential calling, Fr. Marcus upped her training from the standard __self__-defense all St. Clare's students received as part of their physical education courses to a more intensive regime designed to prepare a future Slayer. Catelyn, on the other hand, turned her attention to the school library, searching St. Clare's archives for references to the First Evil. She found some allusive references in the Petrachan Codex, and had Sr. Sinclair (St. Clare's Latin teacher) tutor her in some of the demonic languages she needed to read to learn further._
> 
> _ But both Catelyn and Fr. Marcus remembered that the First Evil was not the only enemy St. Clare's students would have to fear. For there was another, one who had also made an attack upon the school at the beginning of the school year…an excommunicated Catholic order named Inquisitore._


	12. Black Sheep

> **A/N: **Rating has been highered due to language. Evil characters say evil things.
> 
> * * *
> 
> To anybody else, it would seem that the two clerics could have been brothers. Both dressed in the traditional black with white collar, the two priests made a seeming portrait in symmetry.
> 
> Beneath the clerical collar, the two could not have been more different.
> 
> "You shouldn't have come here, Caleb," said the priest at the desk.
> 
> "Oh, come on, Marcus," replied the one in the doorway of the office, his thick southern accent making him sound more like a televangelist than a Catholic priest. "What's the use of a Hellmouth without someone to let loose some hell?" He paused, looked out the office's window at the school's courtyard, at the St. Clare's boys and girls who peopled it. "What is it about the things that makes people want to build schools on them?"
> 
> "It needs to be guarded," answered Fr. Marcus. Sunnydale has the Slayer now. What do we have?"
> 
> "An unorthodox Catholic priest, a nun who teaches Latin and tutors Fyarl, and a bunch of boys and girls who've learned that if you wear a red blazer the vampires won't attack. Such young and nubile children," Caleb observed. "It's enough to lead one into temptation, isn't it?"
> 
> "I am vowed to chastity, just as you have been. Unlike you, I keep that vow."
> 
> "Just that once, is that how it is?" Caleb mocked.
> 
> There was silence for a moment, then Fr. Marcus spoke. "I won't let you harm then," he said.
> 
> "Which ones out of those dirty girls are they?" Caleb asked. "That blonde under the tree? Or how about that nigger bitch over there?"
> 
> "Caleb," Marcus warned.
> 
> "Oh, I know," Caleb said. "They are all children of God, for whatever that's worth. We'll be seeing how far that goes pretty soon, won't we? But you don't have to be the one who fails them. You know, I could just kill them all, every last unclean vixen. That way, I could be sure to wipe out any potential Slayers you might have in the mix."
> 
> "You will not touch any of my students," Marcus answered, his voice firm.
> 
> "No, of course not. No doubt if I tried, your precious Sanctuary spell would knock me into last Tuesday. Now, what's a good Catholic priest like you doing using black magicks?"
> 
> "Whatever it takes to protect my children," said Fr. Marcus as he pulled a revolver from out of his desk. "I'm sorry, Caleb. It didn't have to come to this."
> 
> "I thought redemption was always possible," said Caleb. "Isn't that what they taught us in seminary?"
> 
> "Not you," said Marcus. "Not after what you've done, what you plan to do." He pulled the trigger, and it fired even as Caleb knocked the gun out of his hand. The silver bullet shattered the office window. In the courtyard, a dozen teenage faces were suddenly turned towards Fr. Marcus' office.
> 
> "Don't worry, I'll be on my way now," Caleb said. "I have other girls to take care of. Call it shepherding the flock—gonna have lamb for dinner tonight. But sooner or late, these girls _will_ fall. As will the school itself. Pride always goeth before, y'know?"


End file.
